


With Words Unspoken

by trysomecats



Series: The Strength of Silence [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Legolas Greenleaf, Disability, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Thranduil, Mirkwood, Mute Legolas, Parent Thranduil, Protective Thranduil, Sign Language, Young Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trysomecats/pseuds/trysomecats
Summary: “This is ludicrous,” the elvenking decided one day during a walk through the forest with his son, who skipped ahead happily as he hugged the trees and picked flowers from the forest floor. “Words are just words, and they mean nothing. If Legolas cannot speak, then that is how it shall remain. He is still just as perfect as can be.”





	1. Chapter 1

For the most part, Legolas grew and developed as any other elven baby might have. He began to walk at six months, starting off a little wobbly for several weeks before gaining proper balance. By eight months, he could participate in the dancing held at feasts and celebrations, even if he was a little slow to pick up on new or particularly fast moves. He smiled, laughed, and could understand perfectly whatever was being said to him. But despite this, even after he turned a year old, Legolas had yet to speak his first words.

 

At first Thranduil was not very concerned. After all, no matter what race or species, babies grew and developed at their own pace. Even if elven babies typically reached their milestones well before human babies did, there was never a time set in stone for such a thing. His baby was clearly very intelligent, and so his silence was no cause for true worry.

 

But one year soon grew into two years. During Legolas’ second year upon Middle Earth, much had happened. With the death of the queen, the entire kingdom of Greenwood was stricken with unfathomable grief for many months. The fact that his son had still not uttered a single word out loud was the last thing on the king’s mind.

 

By the third year, however, the king’s concern grew for his little son.

 

“Legolas,” he crooned, brushing back the elfling’s silky light hair. “Don’t you want to say something? Can you tell your ada good morning?”

 

Legolas smiled up at his father, one thumb tucked securely behind his teeth.

 

Thranduil gently removed the thumb. “Come now my little leaf. Say _‘good morning Ada_ ’.”

 

The king knew that his son understood him, but all Legolas did was let out a small hum as he reached out to pat his father’s cheek with one hand. But alas, if the king could not get his son to speak, then nobody else within Greenwood would be able to either. Not Legolas’ nursemaids, tutors, or any others within the woodland realm.

 

The day after Legolas turned four, the elvenking found himself writing to Lord Elrond, who as a renowned healer might have some answers. Even after writing the letter, it was left sitting on Thranduil’s table for many weeks. He found himself feeling rather self-conscious, because revealing such a fact about his child to someone outside of Greenwood felt like unveiling a weakness. Perhaps they would think that Thranduil had failed as a parent, and-

 

The king shook his head of such thoughts. He was being ridiculous, really, and for Legolas’ sake he needed answers.

Unfortunately the Lord of Imladris had no definite answers, and the reasons he suggested were ones that Thranduil had already thought of himself: Perhaps losing his mother at such an early age had caused a stunt in his vocal development, or perhaps Legolas was merely born mute (but he could laugh and make noises with his throat just fine, Thranduil argued with himself). Besides, who had ever heard of an elf that was born mute?

 

Elrond had also inquired about Legolas’ hearing abilities, which were just fine. His elfling could point, wave, and follow directions without any struggle. He did not lack any sense of understanding communication. His receptive sense of speech was just fine, it was only his vocal sense that lacked.

 

Even if he could not come up with a valid reason as to why Legolas was not speaking, Elrond still had a few helpful suggestions. He encouraged that Legolas be read to quite often, and that everyday he still be drawn into conversation that would require answers. The more vocal people could be with Legolas, the better.

 

Therefore, Thranduil did his best to follow through with these suggestions. He informed the staff that if the elfling was nearby, then they were to attempt to have a conversation with him. As wood-elves, books (especially ones designed for children) were rather scarce and unneeded, but Legolas’ tutors still gave him lessons and read to him from learning primers. And every night, of course, Thranduil would sit under the stars with Legolas in his lap and tell him stories or sing to him softly.

 

It was at five years when things changed, at least on Thranduil’s part.

 

“This is ludicrous,” the elvenking decided one day during a walk through the forest with his son, who skipped ahead happily as he hugged the trees and picked flowers from the forest floor. “Words are just words, and they mean _nothing_. If Legolas cannot speak, then that is how it shall remain. He is still just as perfect as can be.”

 

Yes, absolutely perfect, the king thought to himself as Legolas came back to give him a fistful of flowers. He reached down for his son, picking up the small elfling and resting him against his hip.

 

“I love you Legolas,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the child’s temple. “Ada loves you so much.”

 

After that day, Thranduil let go of the worries he had felt for his son. Perhaps Legolas would never speak out loud, but he spoke enough with his eyes and actions. There was no need to fret so much over such a magnificent child.


	2. Chapter 2

Thranduil didn’t like to take Legolas outside of Greenwood; he even hesitated with allowing the child to go beyond the palace walls by himself. That was why, as the king and his guards made their way through Lake-town, Thranduil had a very hard time letting the little elfing leave his arms. Legolas wriggled and gave a small huff of annoyance, wanting to get down so that he could properly explore the human settlement, but his father would not allow it.

 

“Legolas, be still. We can look at the market later, but first I have business with the town Master.”

 

If he were to lose sight of Legolas, there was no telling what would happen. Without the ability to speak, the elfling would not be able to properly communicate in order to get help. In the elvenking’s eyes, humans were much less trustworthy than any elf could ever be. While anyone in Greenwood would treat a little elfling with utmost care and respect, humans were a different and more unpredictable matter.

 

In all honesty, Thranduil had not been planning on taking his child with him to Lake-town today. He’d only relented after enduring a mini elfling tantrum. Legolas had cried, stamped his little feet, and clung tightly to his father’s leg when he learned that Thranduil was to be gone for most of the day.

 

It was very unlike Legolas to behave in such a way. Thranduil might have had the heart to punish the elfling if that had been the case, but it wasn’t, so instead he’d suggested that the little prince come with him. Evidently it was the right decision, for the tantrum had ceased immediately and Legolas had given him a look of pure joy and excitement.

 

But now the little elfling let out another grunt of frustration, pointing a finger to a group of human children in the distance. They were playing some sort of game together, tossing a leather ball around. The king understood his son’s fascination with the children; there were no other elflings in Greenwood save for Legolas, as the woodland elves could sense the impending darkness of Middle Earth and did not desire to bring more life into the world until peace had resumed.

 

“My king, I can take the prince to explore the town while you and the master go over the new trade negotiations,” Galion, the elvenking’s most faithful servant, offered dutifully.

 

Thranduil thought it over. It would be much easier to meet with the town master without a sulking elfling in the way. On the other hand, as much as he trusted Galion, he still felt uneasy about letting Legolas out of his sight.

 

“Very well,” he eventually relented. “Legolas, be sure mind what Galion says. Hold his hand and do not wander off. I will be done shortly, and if I see that you’ve obeyed then I shall purchase you a treat from one of the market stalls.”

 

Yes, it was a bribe, but Thranduil would do anything to ensure that nothing happened to his child. Legolas nodded that yes, he would obey, and struggled once more to get down him his father’s arms. Thranduil allowed him to this time, but looked pointedly stern until Legolas took hold of Galion’s hand.

 

Establishing new trade negotiations took much longer than Thranduil wanted it to, but it was important and therefore he needed to focus all of his attention on it. Still, in the back of his mind he wondered what Galion and Legolas were up to.

 

When they were finished, the elvenking was quick to return to the streets of Lake-town, looking around for any sign of Galion or his son. It was not very difficult to find them, where the group of children Legolas pointed to were.

 

Galion was no longer holding Legolas’ hand, but he stood close by with a smile on his face. Legolas was playing the ball throwing game with two other children, both of whom were taller than him, but not by much. Legolas looked the happiest Thranduil had ever seen him be, that is until he caught sight of his father and his smile grew even bigger.

 

He ran over to the king, waving his little arms widley as he tried to convey the message about what a fun time he was having. The children backed away, intimidate by the sudden onset of the elven king and his guards. It was no matter, for they needed to get back to Greenwood anyway.

 

Thranduil bought Legolas two things from the market that day; a large tin filled to the brim with sugared candies, and a ball that was similar to the ones the human children had been playing with.

 

Once again, the king shook his head at himself for being so worried about his son.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, a guest had arrived in Greenwood. Gandalf the Grey, who the wood elves referred to as Mithrandir, had come to speak to the king. Thranduil had not seen or spoken to the wizard in a long time, and so they sat in the king’s private study in order to talk.

 

Gandalf smoked his pipe and heartily inquired as to how to Woodland Realm was faring. The conversation grew slightly more solemn as Thranduil informed Gandalf of the growing sickness present in the forest.

 

Their conversation was soon interrupted. Thranduil heard the small patter of feet before they had even reached the door to his study. Sure enough, two blue eyes were soon peering curiously through the crack in the doorway.

 

Thranduil smiled. “Legolas, you may come in.”

 

With a new boost of confidence, the elfling entered and went to his father’s side, though he eyed the visitor curiously. The little elf had only just woken up, clear enough by his messy golden hair and rumpled sleep shirt. Gandalf, who had met Legolas once when he was only an infant, smiled kindly at the little prince.

 

The king smoothed his son’s hair back to reassure him. “Come now child, say hello to Mithrandir.”

 

Legolas beamed, waving cheerfully at the wizard.

 

Gandalf set his pipe aside and chuckled. “Well now, you’ve certainly grown! Do you remember who I am?”

 

The elfling nodded, though he looked at his father for confirmation.

 

“You last saw Mithrandir when you were but a year old,” Thranduil told him. It had been nine years since then. Legolas was now ten years old, though by human standards he was still the size of a child who might be around three or four.

 

The elvenking watched rather warily as his son interacted with the wizard. He always felt protective when outsiders of Greenwood paid attention to his son, even with those who could be trusted such as Gandalf.

 

Legolas had no qualms meeting others, being the curious little elfling that he was. He had soon climbed up onto the old wizard’s lap, running his fingers through Gandalf’s white beard in fascination. Thranduil waited for Gandalf to ask Legolas why he was not talking, but surprisingly he said nothing about it.

 

Eventually Legolas was sought out by one of his nursemaids, for he had yet to have breakfast or a morning bath. Thranduil sent the elfling away with a kiss to his cheek, telling him to behave and to mind his nursemaid.

 

“He’s an absolute joy,” Gandalf told Thranduil approvingly once Legolas had left. “He’ll grow to be a fine elf in the years to come.”

 

“Thank you, I know he will.”

 

The wizard’s eyes twinkled. “When he heard that I planned on passing through Greenwood, Lord Elrond asked me to deliver something to you.”

 

The wizard pulled a leather-bound book from his robes, looking a little worn but still in good condition. He passed it to the king wordlessly, and was silent while Thranduil opened it up to observe the pages.

 

“What is this?” The king finally asked, tracing a finger over one of the pictures.

 

“It’s a language,” Gandalf said. “Many call it the voice of the hands. It’s mostly used by those who are deaf, or who do not have the ability to speak. I believe the rangers also use it at times to convey words in silence.”

 

Thranduil had never heard of such a language. It suddenly made sense why Gandalf had not inquired as to why Legolas did not speak; clearly Elrond had spoke to him about it. Still, rather than be offended, he flipped through more of the pages and was intrigued at the different hand symbols and words that they showed.

 

“This...may be beneficial,” the king said.

 

“If there’s one thing I already know about your boy, it’s that he’s adventurous. One day, when he’s older, he will desire to travel outside of the Woodland Realm. Knowing the voice of the hands will be an excellent tool for him.”

 

“I will have to give Lord Elrond my thanks.”

* * *

 

 _‘Ada_ ,’ Legolas signed with enthusiasm. _‘Ada Ada Ada!_ ’

 

“Yes ion-nin, you have my attention.”

 

The elfling stopped and made a new motion with his hands, one that immediately had the elvenking smiling.

 

“I love you too Legolas,” he said, signing the same symbol back to him.

 

It had only been a few weeks since Gandalf had visited, but already they were making great use of the book Lord Elrond had sent to them. Each day Thranduil personally spent several hours helping his son learn how to say new words with his hands. The little one was so bright and eager to learn! By the second week in, he was even using sentences.

 

It was a learning experience for both father and son. Thranduil felt a sense of thrill to share this new language with Legolas. The king could communicate exceptionally well with his child just by reading his eyes and body language, but now a whole new doorway had been opened.

 

The fact that this language was used by others, elves and men both, bode well for Legolas. Thranduil had already ordered a scribe to make several copies of the original book, so that the guards and staff could become familiar with the language as well.

 

 _‘Ada_!’ Legolas got the attention of his father again, and then brushed his fingers against his chin to say one of his favorite newly learned words.

 

“Alright, you can have a sweet. How about we split a honey-cake?”

 

 _‘Yes_!’ Legolas hopped up and down in excitement, but then held his arms out to be picked up. Thranduil obliged, softly kissing his elfling’s temple as he went in search of the promised treat.

 

* * *

 

 **MANY YEARS LATER**  

* * *

 

 

‘ _Ada, it was my responsibility to keep watch over Gollum. Because of my negligence, two guards are now dead, and our prisoner is gone. Let me undertake the consequences for my mistake_.’

 

“Legolas, ion-nin, this is _not_ your fault,” Thranduil both signed and said aloud, as he always did when talking to his son. “We could never have known about the impending Orc attack. You have no consequences to bear.”

 

‘ _Ada, let me go to Imladris_.’

 

“No,” the king said at once. “There is no need for you to go; I can easily send anyone to act as a messenger.”

 

‘ _It is my duty as the prince,_ ’ Legolas signed. _‘Please, Ada. No harm will come to me_.’

 

“There is no way to know that,” Thranduil replied, his voice softening. “I sense that the darkness of Middle Earth has grown to be more threatening now than ever. The safest place for you is here, in the forest among our people.”

 

Legolas did not sign anything else, but continued to stare at his father with determination in his eyes. He was no longer a child, but also still very young for an elf. His visits outside of Greenwood, which people unfortunately referred to as Mirkwood now, were far and few between. Thranduil feared for his son, as any father would.

 

But still, along with his royal title, Legolas was a reputable warrior. There were no other elves in the Woodland Realm who could best Legolas in archery. The son of Thranduil, silent as he was, also used the most languages of them all. He spoke to people with his hands, to the trees with his thoughts, and to the animals with his eyes. He had slain hundreds of Shelob’s children, and even had experience fighting Orcs.

 

Thranduil knew this.

 

“I will let you go,” he finally said. “But you must promise to take care of yourself. You will deliver the message to Lord Elrond, take a few days to rest, and then come back to me. Do you understand?”

 

‘ _Yes Ada_!’ Legolas’ eyes brightened. ‘ _I will be careful. Thank you for letting me go_.’

 

“Take at least three of our best guards to accompany you,” Thranduil instructed. “And you shall not leave until dawn. Let us have tonight to spend together.”

 

Legolas nodded and hugged him tightly.

 

Still, as he watched his son begin to make preparations for his trip to Imladris, the elvenking couldn’t help but feel overcome by a sense of dread.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you to all those who commented with their input! I have decided to go forward with making a series involving mute!Legolas. The time periods will vary; there will be fics taking place before/during/after the ring quest, scenes from The Hobbit, and more revolving around Legolas’ childhood.


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